


Winter Dreams

by theRougeChevalier



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Children, Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRougeChevalier/pseuds/theRougeChevalier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santa's got a brand new helper...Mycroft Holmes.   A cozy look into the holidays at the home of Mycroft and Gregory Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> A little fic about Mycroft and Gregory that I started writing over Christmas. I love this pairing and it deserves to be paid more homage. So here is just a short look into the romance of Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade. Inspired by Kelly Clarkson's song Winter Dreams

As Mycroft Holmes unzipped the garment bag in the closet that held his evening garb he reflected that this may very well be the one night of the year when he and Gregory were home early. But then they were both off for the next few days so only time could tell what the future holds and whether the streets of london and the roundtables of the world could survive without them for one holiday. 

 

As Mycroft peeled off his usual suit he looked down at the one he had laid out on the bed, he still couldn’t believe he was going to do this, all those years he spent fighting the battle against his weight and even though he was much slimmer than in his youth he still suffered through numerous jibes from his brother, but somehow they didn’t seem to sting as much as they once did and Mycroft knew the reason for that was Gregory. He had been drawn to the Detective from the first moment he spoke with him face to face. He had a natural charm and personability as well as a straightforward demeanor. He was also quite handsome. In short he was everything Mycroft was not, and everything Mycroft wanted in a man. But being at his core a professional Mycroft brushed aside his desires for two years and his only relationship with context to the silver fox of a detective was that of two men concerned for the well being of one very out of sorts genius. Together they did everything they could to get Sherlock off drugs and keep on the straight and narrow or well as close as Sherlock Holmes could ever come. 

 

Gregory gave him cases to keep his mind occupied and Mycroft ensured Greg that Sherlock was not a threat to anyone, at least physically…

 

But to Mycroft’s surprise he wasn’t the only pining away in secret. 

 

After two years Sherlock had recovered much, he was no longer on drugs and although his attitude still left a lot to be desired Mycroft feared that was something that would never change. The only downside to the situation was that he had less reason to interact with the silver haired DI. 

 

One night his direct line rang and seeing it was Gregory he feared that Sherlock had relapsed. “Good evening Detective Inspector.” He answered calm and even. “Good evening Mycroft.” Came the reply in the same measured tone, these pleasantries were the norm for the two of them, professional, Mycroft’s default setting which Gregory had accepted. 

 

“Might I inquire as to what penance I must now pay to amend Sherlock’s newest grievance?” 

 

“None, at least I hope not. Sherlock is doing fine.” 

 

“Truly?” 

 

“I just left him with a couple boxes of cold case files to keep him occupied since I could no longer handle the ‘bored’ text messages 24/7. They should hold him till the morning at least.” 

 

“How very resourceful of you Detective Inspector.” 

 

“Regardless of what Sherlock thinks the badge is not for show but anyway….” Gregory paused as if he wanted to say more, but could not articulate his thoughts. “I had hoped we might discuss something else. An important matter, for once not regarding Sherlock.” 

 

“Is anything wrong Detective Inspector?” Mycroft prompted. 

 

“No, not at all. Do you have time for a meeting?” 

 

Mycroft glanced at his watch and mentally checked his schedule, ironically enough this was one of the days when he was due to leave work by 8, a slow day for the British government.

 

“It seems my evening is free, did you have a location in mind?” 

 

“I’ll text you the address, it’s in Shad Thames. See you in a few?” That was when emotion betrayed itself in Gregory’s voice the whole conversation had been passive and cordial, but that one question was filled with so much hope and a bit of anxiety, Mycroft did not know what to make of it. 

 

He summoned his driver and after covering the next day’s to do list with his assistant they headed off. A leisurely drive through London was actually quite pleasant this time of year. Early winter not only meant early darkness broken by the comforting twinkle of holiday lights, but also the ensuing cold temperatures made the criminals of the city seek refuge indoors causing a slight drop in the crime rate. Mycroft watched the lights flicker on the Thames shortly before the car arrived at the provided address. He stepped from the car and examined the exterior, it was a clean well appointed restaurant, a bit small perhaps a cafe, he read the name and his mind registered it as being a popular purveyor of European cuisine to the upper middle class. It was not as ritzy as he was used to, but it had class. He walked inside and after taking in the room asked the maitre de after the detective. The Maitre de’s face lit up with recognition and he gave a him quick glance more carefully taking in his features. “Ah yes, you are Greg’s friend. Please follow me.” 

 

Mycroft was led through the establishment. The atmosphere was sleek and modern but done in woods and leathers make the room feel cozy in candle light. It was unusual for Mycroft to be led in anything and he found it a tad strange that he could so easily put faith in Gregory not to lead him astray. They walked up a small set of a stairs to a raised row of tables that looked out over the Thames towards the bridge, the lights of the city bright and reflecting merrily on the water. At the last table in the corner sat Gregory, when he caught sight of him he rose from his seat, his movements betraying nervousness even though a full grin lit his face. 

 

“Glad you could make it.” He said his blinding grin directed at Mycroft, he turned to the maitre de and nodded. “Thanks Nick.” 

 

“No problem, Greg. Shall I bring you some wine?” 

 

“Yes, please.” 

 

“I know just the one, excuse me.” With that the maitre de gave a mischievous smile and walked away. 

 

“Have a...seat.” Gregory stuttered out. Mycroft took a seat across from him and once seated Gregory sat as well.

 

“This is quite a nice place.” Mycroft complimented. “I’ve never been here, but I’ve heard good things.” 

 

Gregory’s nervousness seemed to ebb a little and if possible his grin brightened even more. “You can’t beat the view, and the food is great.” 

 

Mycroft’s brow furrowed. It was a testament to Gregory’s abilities as a detective and how well acquainted he was with the Holmes brothers’ and their mannerisms that Mycroft didn’t even have to voice his thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking. How can a detective inspector afford to eat at a fancy place like this all the time? You’re not the only one who’s got connections you know.” Gregory said the last part leaning fording conspiratorially his grin turning into a roguish smirk. 

 

Mycroft allowed a similar relaxed expression to grace his lips. The Maitre de returned swiftly and produced a fine bottle of red wine which having poured for them both left with the promise to return for their order presently. “I am impressed Detective Inspector, but may I…” 

 

“Greg.” 

 

Mycroft blinked. 

 

Greg raised his wine glass, “We’ve known each other for long enough. I think it would be alright for you to call me by my given name in private.” His eyes shined with familiarity and a spark of mischief although it may have been but a trick of the light. 

 

Mycroft raised his glass in mirror to Gregory. “Alright, ...Gregory.” He finally allowed himself to say the name aloud and the answering smirk and eye roll from the man in question was every bit worth it. 

 

“Well that’s something at least.” Gregory mumbled under his breath. “Cheers,” he said clinking their glasses together. As they both drank of the wine their eyes never left one another. Mycroft was the first to set aside his glass and look away, eyes turning to the menu before him, but only for a moment before darting up to look at Gregory’s once more and such nice eyes they were. Gregory’s gave never wavered and although enjoying the attention from the handsome detective Mycroft was not at all used to not being in control. Taking a moment to regain himself (unheard of for a Holmes), he licked his lip quickly, which did not seem to go unnoticed by the detective if the slight dilation in his eyes was any indication. 

 

“May I ask, Gregory, why we are here?” 

 

Gregory shook his head but the mischief never left his eyes. “Does everything have to be about business Mycroft?” 

 

Mycroft just watched him for a moment digesting his words. 

 

Gregory leaned forward a little, “Can’t we just be two friends having a nice dinner together?” 

 

“Are we friends?” Mycroft asked back knowing the tenor of the question sounded suspicious, it would have been the norm for him to be speculative, but now he was truly hopeful of the answer. 

 

The mischief dimmed but the smile brightened and his tone was soft as he answered. “I like to think we are.” 

 

Mycroft’s eyes softened in response to the eagerly awaited answer. “No ulterior motives?” He asked with a small smile. 

 

Gregory looked a bit sheepish, but the smile ever remained. “Well maybe not any….” 

 

Mycroft could swear his heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath waiting for the words that would either condemn his every hope or give new life to his every breath. 

 

“I was hoping that perhaps if this evening is acceptable, that there might be others…” 

 

“Others?” Mycroft mimed back not daring to put his own hopes into Gregory’s words. 

 

“That we might become something more than, just, friends...” Gregory finished, the barest hint of insecurity showing through at the end although considering he was faced with courting a Holmes he had done admirably. 

 

“I would like that…” Mycroft answered with a full smile. Gregory’s smile widened in response. 

 

And oh Gregory had done more than admirably courting Mycroft for the better part of two years and was even more wonderful as a fiance and a husband. And now was proving himself as a father as well with the addition of their daughter Eleanor to the family. They were fast approaching their 5th wedding anniversary and Eleanor had just turned 3. With Sherlock finally ‘back from the dead’ as it were their family was whole once again and this Christmas would be the first one where Eleanor would be big enough to remember and fully interact with all the excitement of the holiday. 

 

Which brings us back to the bedroom, Mycroft now fully dressed in the ceremonial garb of many men before him, an ancient rite of passage for all fathers….The santa suit. 

 

Really the odds of Eleanor being awake or seeing him in it were incredibly slim as Gregory had put her to bed over half an hour ago and despite her animated protests she had been in a prolonged state of excitement all day, she would sleep soundly tonight. But the suit wasn’t just for Eleanor….

 

Mycroft filled his matching red velvet sack with the presents hidden in the guest room and lifting it over his shoulder headed out into the hall, he walked down the hall and poked his head into Eleanor’s room. He smiled to himself at the sight of his little girl curled up tight beneath her covers smiling and snuffling softly, her black curls already trying to escape her braid. Had she been awake her warm chocolate eyes, so like Gregory’s, would sparkle with mischief and glee as they always did. 

 

At one time Mycroft would have believed his only reason for being on this Earth was to protect his queen and country and gladly would have dedicated his life to the pursuit of it. But looking at his little girl sleeping so peacefully in her bed he realized his heart had been stolen and although he would continue his noble cause, there would always be something more important. Two somethings actually…

 

Renewed in his purposed he cautiously took to the stairs carefully keeping his ears open and his steps soft. He crossed the hall aware that Gregory was in the kitchen finishing up the after dinner chores. He entered the sitting area which had been transformed into an ideal christmas scene, stockings hung upon the mantle over a cheerful fire the tree giving off a soft light from the corner. It is hard for Mycroft to believe that he ever hated Christmas, but Eleanor and Gregory make him see many things differently. He sets about his work taking gifts from the bag and placing them carefully beneath the tree. 

 

While he is busy placing gifts artfully beneath the tree, focusing all his Holmes perfectionism on the task, one Detective Inspector comes into the entryway and seeing the sight before him smiles to himself softly before leaning against the doorframe to watch his husband at work. As he watches his smiles turns to a grin. He is touched at the lengths Mycroft has gone for their daughter, not only that but Mycroft doesn’t look half bad in the red velvet and fur lined coat and hat. But his favorite part of the ensemble by far is the red beard Mycroft has been growing for the whole of the winter season, normally Mycroft would never go unshaven, but when he discovered Gregory’s fondness for it and its vibrant color, he decided to grow it out for the holiday as a sort of Christmas gift for his beloved husband. 

 

And Gregory was certainly not disappointed. As Mycroft stood from his work beneath the tree Gregory made himself known. “Merry Christmas St. Nicholas.” He said aloud his grin never ceasing as Mycroft started, just a little, and turned back to his husband with a sheepish look. 

 

Gregory strode forward with a sultry sidle. “By my word I can say I have never seen such a good looking Saint.” He chuckled softly and slid comfortably into Mycroft’s arms whose sheepish look was replaced by a pleased smirk. Gregory brought their lips together for a long deep kiss. 

 

When he pulled back his hands found Mycroft’s beard and ran through the red curls lovingly. 

 

“Are you pleased?” Mycroft asked. 

 

“Most definitely. Thank you for doing all this for Elly, and for me.” He kissed his husband again and Mycroft wrapped his arms more tightly around him pressing their bodies flush. 

 

“You are most welcome my love. I must say I am quite enjoying it myself.” They chuckled together. 

 

“Can I help with the stocking?” Gregory asked. Mycroft nodded and together they filled Eleanor’s stocking in companionable silence before taking each others and leaving the room to fill them separately and discreetly. Then they returned and hung them on the mantle. When Gregory returned Mycroft was already finished, having hung his stocking back on the mantle. Gregory was tempted to peek, but instead simply hung up Mycroft’s stocking with a mischievous little smirk glancing back over his shoulder at his husband who relaxed in his large arm chair by the fire. 

 

He walked over to the side table beside the chair and lifted a cookie from the plate meant for santa. He held out the cookie to Mycroft and Mycroft leaned in to take a bite. Gregory swooped down to take a bite as well and when they both eaten their respective portions their lips met in a kiss. The kiss became many as Gregory sat upon Mycroft’s lap and held him close as they exchanged several deep and passionate kisses. When they pulled back for a breath Mycroft stared deeply into Gregory’s eyes and whispered, “Happy Christmas, Mr. Claus.” 

 

Gregory smiled back and leaned in, “Merry Christmas St. Nick,” He whispered back. 

And it was a Merry Christmas for all and to all a very good night….


End file.
